Grad students: if your department has a seminar series that brings in visiting speakers, meeting with them one-on-one is a great time investment. Going to the pizza lunch with the speaker and a bunch of other students is fine. So is meeting with the speaker as part of your lab group. But a one-on-one meeting has some unique advantages. It lets you talk with the visiting speaker about your own work. And it’s good practice for going to conferences–it gets you used to talking to strangers, gives you practice explaining your work to strangers, and helps you get over the feeling that faculty are your superiors rather than your professional colleagues.
Here are some tips on how to approach meeting one-on-one with a visiting speaker. Also some reassurance re: some common (?) anxieties about meeting with visiting speakers.
Ecologists (and lots of other people) often say that the world, or some feature of it, is ‘random’ or ‘stochastic’. But what exactly does that mean?
One view is that randomness is real; some features of the world are inherently probabilistic. Quantum mechanics is the paradigmatic example here, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t others. An alternative view is that calling something ‘random’ is shorthand for our ignorance. If we knew enough about the precise shape of a coin, the force with which it was flipped, the movement of the surrounding air, etc., we could accurately predict the outcome of any particular coin flip, which is deterministic. But we don’t have that information, so we pretend that coin flipping is a random process and make probabilistic statements about the expected aggregate outcome of many flips.
Does the distinction between these two views matter for ecologists? It’s tempting to say no. In practice there’s no possibility we’ll ever have enough information to predict the roll of a die, so we lose nothing by treating it as random. No less an authority than Sewell Wright was of this view. But I’m going to suggest that’s incorrect; I think ecologists do need to decide whether they think randomness is real, or merely determinism disguised by our ignorance. And I’ll further suggest that the appropriate choice can vary from case to case and is only sometimes dictated by empirical facts.
Also this week: Rapid Ecology’s latest experiment, new ESA Fellows, and more.
Because I am
always on the lookout for easy posts a procrastinator always trying to be helpful*, I keep an eye on the ecoevojobs.net discussion threads to see if ecology faculty job seekers are asking questions about the ecology faculty job market that I can easily answer with my pretty comprehensive list of people who were recently hired into tenure-track asst. professor positions in ecology at N. American colleges and universities.
Here’s one that came up recently: is is true that these days the typical faculty career path in ecology involves holding a visiting assistant professor position before being hired as a tenure-track assistant professor? A closely-related question: were many newly-hired TT ecology faculty already TT assistant professors somewhere else, so that much of the ecology faculty job market is people who are already assistant professors playing musical chairs?
I have no idea how many people were wondering about the answers to those questions. Probably not that many?** Well, whatever. In case you were wondering, the answers to both questions are “no”. For the brief details, read on.
One thing that faculty search committees for positions with significant research expectations like to see is applicants who publish in leading selective journals. I have an old post that talks a bit about why that is (tl;dr: there are good reasons for it). For better or worse (and your mileage may vary on which it is…), Nature, Science, and PNAS are at the top of many people’s mental list of the leading journals in ecology (and most other scientific fields).
This has various consequences. One of which is that, anecdotally, papers in Nature/Science/PNAS seem to take on an outsized importance in the minds of at least some faculty job seekers. I’ve heard people say that you have to have a Nature/Science/PNAS paper to be competitive for a faculty position, at least at a research university. And I’ve heard people say that having a Nature/Science/PNAS paper is pretty much a guarantee of obtaining a faculty position in short order. Now, those views are extreme, and I suspect they’re minority views. But as with many aspects of the faculty job market, I’m sure there’s a range of views out there. In part because many people only know how the faculty job market works from hearsay and their own anecdotal experiences. So here’s a bit of data: just how common is it for newly-hired tenure-track asst. professors of ecology in N. America to have Nature/Science/PNAS papers?
Quick quiz! Let’s imagine you are reading the results section of a manuscript. Which of these is the most useful/interesting/compelling/informative?:
- Figure 2 shows the relationship between infection and lifespan.
- Our experiment on the relationship between infection and lifespan found unambiguous results (Figure 2).
- Including infection treatment as a predictor improved model fit for lifespan (stats, Figure 2).
- Infected hosts lived, on average, half as long as uninfected hosts (20 days vs. 40 days; stats, Figure 2).
I think we’d mostly agree that option 4 is the most informative and interesting by a long shot. It focuses on the biological results, which, as ecologists, are usually our primary interest – presumably you did the experiment because you wanted to know whether and how infection impacted reproduction, not because you just really like making figures or doing stats!
Also this week: 50 shades of
grey green, the best (?) pedagogical technique you’ve never heard of (?), and more.
I recently had a conversation with someone who said he thinks the second year of a course is the best year and that, after three years, he wants to move on. But I’ve also had conversations with others who would be happy to teach the same course for eternity. And I know still others who initially wanted to teach the same course over and over and over, but who now prefer to switch more often.
Part of why I’ve been having these conversations is I’ve been thinking lately about how long I want to teach Introductory Biology, even though I’m not sure how much of an option I have in terms of how long I will teach it for – I don’t think I’d be forced to if I said I absolutely didn’t want to do it, but there is definitely pressure to stay in it. But, for reasons I’ll explain more below, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how many times is the “right” number of times to teach a course and whether that number changes over the course of one’s career.
So, let’s start out with a poll. And, to be clear: I recognize that there are often things that take us away from what we’d prefer, and that, for some, some of these questions might feel like imagining what you’d do with an extra million dollars. (Yes, I sometimes wonder about that, too.)
Rarely. For details, read on.
Junior applicants for faculty positions open to applicants of multiple ranks sometimes worry that senior applicants have a big advantage over junior applicants. Personally, I don’t think they do. Senior applicants are held to higher standards than junior applicants–a cv that is impressive for a postdoc is not impressive for an associate or full professor. Senior applicants also are more expensive to hire (higher salary, more startup), and there’s a greater risk that they’ll turn down the offer after negotiating a counter-offer from their current institution. Finally, senior candidates are “known quantities”, and many hiring institutions prefer the “potential” of junior candidates.
But we don’t just have to rely on anecdotal impressions; we can look at data.
Also this week: Paul Krugman vs. scientist public intellectuals, David Attenborough vs. raves, Freeman Dyson was right about free parameters and elephants, new open ecology blog, and more.